


Loving Marks

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: Hidden Marks [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Banter, Bondage, Cigarettes, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light BDSM, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Teasing, Use of a Noir Film as Masturbation Aid, whisky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Part 3 of my Hidden Marks series, in which Mycroft and Greg explore their relationship and indulge each other lovingly.





	Loving Marks

Mycroft’s face was flushed from arousal and exertion. He pushed back against the next strike, so as to not overbalance on the back of the large, plush armchair he was kneeling in. With both arms tied behind his back, knees on the seat and chest on the top of the backrest he was already shaky… but every single hit only pushed him further off-centre.

“Don’t forget to count,” Greg said quietly.

“Fifteen,” Mycroft responded breathlessly.

“Good,” Greg said with a good measure of warmth and immediately struck Mycroft’s exposed cheek again.

Mycroft cursed and moaned at the same time, the sting traveling through his body, the warmth spreading even further and his nipples rubbing over the coarse cloth of the armchair. His cock jumped up to his stomach, sticky fluid painting a small mark. With the ropes wrapped around his torso in an intricate pattern, restricting his breathing, he felt absolutely amazing. Every heavy breath reminded him of who bound him, who he belonged to.

“Sixteen,” he hissed.

“So beautiful,” Greg said and caressed the heated, red skin. “You should see yourself.”

Mycroft tensed as Greg let his hand wander downwards, let fingertips trail over his balls, then ever forward, stroking along his neglected cock once. He held his breath at the sensation, desperately trying to make himself calm down. Then Greg swirled the head with his fingers, collecting the drops that hadn’t yet made their way onto the cushion below and trailed his fingers back up. As he reached a certain point, Mycroft sucked in a breath.

“How many did we say, darling?”

“Twenty.”

“The last four with a little extra?”

“Yes, sir,” Mycroft replied readily.

He could almost see Greg’s smile in the little hum his partner released and a short while later he felt something cold press against his hole. He groaned as the plug stretched him wider, ever wider, until it slipped in, held in place by the base. Greg pushed and pulled the rubber a few times, until Mycroft whimpered. He couldn’t get away, not without falling out of the chair. He could only hold still and endure.

“Please…”

The four strikes were delivered without remorse and with deadly precision. Every single one made the plug press into Mycroft in a very particular way. He moaned and cursed, but he counted them all. Even though his strength was running out he kept upright. Eyes screwed shut, he tried to concentrate… so he wouldn’t come on the spot. The pain that ran through him, the warmth of the skin where he had been hit, the way the plug pressed into him, the ropes that rubbed roughly against his chest, the way his wrists were bound tightly behind his back. Everything conspired against him. He gasped and panted as the sensations didn’t let up, even though Greg hadn’t touched him for a while. 

Then, finally, he felt Greg’s hands on his shoulders, drawing him up so he was kneeling. The rope around his wrists was released and Greg carefully moved his arms to his sides, rubbed over Mycroft’s shoulders for a moment. Greg wrapped his arms around him, pressed himself into Mycroft, his erection directly on the plug, leisurely grinding against it.

“Would you like to come?” he whispered into Mycroft’s ear, reached lower to trace a finger over his weeping cock.

“If you want me to,” Mycroft replied, his own hands digging into the armrests of the chair as he pressed back against Greg, his body speaking a different language.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re so pretty when you come,” Greg said with a smile in his voice. “But I want to see your face.”

Greg climbed around the other man into the chair, so that he was sitting in it and Mycroft on his lap. For moment they just stared into each other’s eyes, soaking up the love between them, then Greg drew Mycroft by his bindings, which dug into his skin, and kissed him thoroughly. Mycroft moaned into his mouth, hands in Greg’s hair as he started rutting against the fabric of Greg’s shirt. Greg reached around and held the plug into place, so that it would slide in and out, the widest part catching again and again and again.

“Come all over me you gorgeous man,” Greg breathed and moved his other hand to the back of Mycroft’s head to draw it back, then applied his teeth to his throat.

Riled up as he was, it took all but ten seconds for Mycroft to shout and spill himself over Greg’s stomach. He convulsed on his lap, clenching around the plug, fingers digging into Greg’s shoulders. But it was Greg who was breathing harder of the two as he watched Mycroft’s cock jump, holding him in place.

“God, but you’re beautiful…” he said with clear reverence in his voice.

Mycroft huffed a small laugh despite himself and sunk into Greg’s waiting arms as he slowly calmed down. Greg rubbed his back and murmured gentle endearments, kissed Mycroft’s ear. Mycroft almost purred.

“And now I’m going to tease you,” Greg whispered and found himself staring into Mycroft’s wide eyes.

He grinned and rose from the chair with Mycroft in his arms, took a few steps over to the couch and set him down on the soft blanket. The air was warm in the small room, but Mycroft was still naked except for the ropes, so he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. Then he stepped to the back of the room and powered up the projector.

“So that’s why we’re here,” Mycroft mumbled as the title sequence of the film started up.

“Hadn’t figured that out yet?”

“I was thoroughly distracted by your cock in my mouth, my dear.”

Greg almost burst out laughing at Mycroft’s steady, casual tone. He joined him on the couch and snuggled up to him, and they shared an indulgent kiss.

“Just enjoy it,” Greg said and reached for the decanter to pour a glass of whisky.

“You know I can’t simply enjoy this particular film. That’s why you chose it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Greg answered with a grin. “I just love watching you watch it, I suppose.”

“Incorrigible,” Mycroft mumbled, but turned his gaze forward and watched the opening sequence intently. 

Greg knew what the main actor did to him. What the whole film did to him. It had been an embarrassing revelation, but oh so worth it. Greg was very good in what he called indulging and even though Mycroft had at first felt bad for being treated like this, he had learned to let go and give Greg the enjoyment he found in these simple acts. Mycroft reached for Greg’s hand, gave it a squeeze as they watched the film detective walk through the black-and-white city on screen.

“I love you,” Mycroft whispered and pressed himself closer, the ropes that were still wrapped around him rubbing over his skin.

“I love you so much, darling,” Greg replied and kissed Mycroft’s forehead.

He reached for a package on the table and Mycroft’s eyes widened as he drew out a cigarette. He lit it and turned to Mycroft with a wink.

“Just one. Kinda obligatory with this, isn’t it?”

He took a drag and let the smoke lazily curl as it left his mouth, bright against the dark background. Mycroft shivered. This shouldn’t turn him on so much. Then Greg held the cigarette to Mycroft’s lips and as he breathed in the smoke and closed his eyes a certain calm settled over him that he could only ever achieve this way. He released the smoke with a sigh. Greg smiled indulgently. Between them they finished the cigarette more quickly than Mycroft liked, the smoke lingering in the air, drifting slowly through the light of the projector.

“Whisky?” Greg asked and raised the glass.

“You’re too good to me.”

“That’s impossible.”

Greg took a sip for himself first, then another, bigger one, which he held in his mouth. With one hand in his hair he tipped Mycroft’s head back and let the liquid slowly run into his mouth. The peaty spirit burned itself down Mycroft’s throat. He chased the last few drops with his tongue in Greg’s mouth, which led to a rather deep and heated kiss. When they parted Greg’s eyes were sparkling with joy and arousal.

“Here’s your favourite part,” he said and drew back so Mycroft could see the film again.

Mycroft smiled. Previously he had always mouthed along to the lines of Leonard the detective, but now… now he felt much more like Velma, the femme fatale of the feature, who was strutting into Leonard’s office, wearing a bright, flowy dress, smoking a cigarette. Mycroft licked his lips where he could still taste the smoke. Greg was right. It was obligatory.

“You know I could arrest you?” Greg whispered into his ear, just when Leonard said the line on film.

Mycroft grinned. “What for?” he said alongside Velma.

“Wearing a dress like that.”

“Would you like me to take it off?”

“Then I’d really have to press charges.”

“Press away.”

Mycroft could already feel himself fill out, just with that small dialogue exchange. He had fantasised about getting the film detective’s hands on him so many times that it was almost involuntary by now. Only now a different detective let his hand slowly wander down and cup him through the blanket. Mycroft groaned and pressed upwards into the welcoming hand.

“Isn’t that how they got started?” Velma said on screen, but Mycroft moaned instead of talking along.

“Darling. Pay attention,” Greg admonished him with a smile.

“A bit hard right now,” Mycroft replied.

“I say…” Greg replied and moved his hand under the blanket to stroke Mycroft directly. “Come on, I know you know the words.”

Mycroft actually managed to grin. “Now, what was all that about arresting me?” he mouthed, cheekily looking into Greg’s eyes, one of his own hands wandering to fumble with Greg’s belt.

“Well, maybe not arresting you.”

“No?”

“I could just keep you under close watch.”

“Very close?”

Mycroft managed to open Greg’s trousers and pulled his erection out. As Greg didn’t protest in the slightest he returned the favour and stroked him in turn. Greg’s eyes turned upward and his mouth opened to release a shaky breath. It was always gratifying to see him be at least as much affected as Mycroft himself.

“Uh-huh,” Greg hummed along to Leonard’s confirmation.

“Shame. I was looking forward to putting myself into the hands of the authorities.”

“You were?”

Mycroft leaned over and mouthed at Greg’s neck.

“Fingerprinting…” he whispered against his skin. “…being searched. Thoroughly.”

“Fuck,” Greg cursed in response, head thrown back. 

His own hand had stopped, but Mycroft wasn’t deterred. If anything it only made him want to throw Greg off his game even further. He was always so considerate in giving Mycroft everything he wanted and needed – not it was time to give back. He felt the other tense under his hands after only moments of kissing the skin of his neck. The characters on screen had stopped talking. Muffled moans were audible, carefully placed scandalised huffs.

“Next time…” Mycroft said and licked along Greg’s ear. “…I’m actually wearing the dress, so you can fuck me in it.”

Greg’s eyes were screwed shut and he cursed as he spilled himself over Mycroft’s hand and onto his own shirt, joining Mycroft’s earlier release. As their eyes met Mycroft’s sparkled and showed him a smug grin. He licked his own fingers clean, never breaking eye contact. Greg couldn’t help it. He barked a laugh.

“Oh, you bastard,” he said and slipped off the couch. “Eyes front.”

He swallowed Mycroft down without hesitation, his hand at his entrance, pushing and pulling on the plug. Now it was Mycroft’s turn to curse. On the screen the detective had pushed the woman against the wall and pulled up her skirt. One creamy white leg wrapped itself around the man as they kissed, rutting against each other. A most forceful push of the plug pulled Mycroft back into reality. Greg showed him no mercy. Mycroft came again after an embarrassingly short time, his release swallowed completely. After he whimpered from being too sensitive, Greg pulled off and laid his head on Mycroft’s thigh, licking his lips.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said.

“I’ve certainly learned a lesson. Though I don’t know if we have the same in mind.”

“Depends. Tell me.”

Mycroft grinned. “Gregory Lestrade is turned on by men in dresses.”

“Not entirely correct. I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t care for anyone else in it. But then again, no one else has such marvellous legs…”

Mycroft laughed as Greg licked his skin. He had always been ticklish right there. Then Greg reached up and undid the knot of the rope, so that the binding fell open. He stroked along the red line it had left and smiled.

“Let me get you out of this and into a bath.”

“What would I do without you?”

“See your film in peace?”

“You’re right. Out with you! Immediately!”

“Sure,” Greg replied and got to his feet. “But not without you.”

Mycroft almost squealed in surprise as he was pulled up and drawn into Greg’s arms. As Greg meticulously unwrapped the binding, Mycroft watched his partner with both love and admiration. There had to be something he could do to express his gratitude. A holiday perhaps? Or the fulfilment of a certain scenario he had hinted at? Or even a ring? Mycroft hummed to himself as the thoughts lined themselves up in his head.

Or why not all of the above?


End file.
